By the River
by YLJedi
Summary: Early one morning, Robin slips away for some peace and quiet, but his time of solitude is interrupted by none other than Will Scarlett.
1. Chapter 1

The night was just beginning to think about turning into day. Robin slipped out of camp and headed towards the river. Today, he wanted to see the sun rise. And while in a forest, it was pretty hard to actually witness that event, he at least wanted to be up when the sun rose and the river was as good a place to be as any. He hadn't told any of the others where he was going; today he wanted to be alone, and he really didn't feel like anyone knowing where he was. It was childish, and probably more than a little stupid, but that didn't sway Locksley. Today he wanted, no needed, to be alone, at least for a little while.

He sat down on the riverbank, but not right next to the water. He looked around where he was and smiled; this was where he first talked to Marian when she came looking for him. But even though the thought of Marian brought a smile to his face, it also brought sadness. Thinking about Marian also made him think about Peter. Today he really missed him.

Peter had been a good friend—a great friend. Locksley couldn't believe he was gone. And it pained him that he wasn't able to at least bring his body home, so that he could be buried in his homeland. But at least he died a free Englishman, Robin reminded himself. But oh, there were so many times he wanted to talk to Peter. Azeem and John were his two closest companions in his outlaw band, and they were good friends, but they couldn't compare to a childhood friend. He didn't know how Azeem could stand being here; surely the pangs of loneliness must be ten, twenty, a hundred times greater than his own. But Azeem never spoke of being lonely. Really, he didn't speak of anything personal at all.

He missed Peter. But he was gone, along with his father. Robin closed his eyes. His father. After six years of the Crusades, he had finally, finally, come back home to find his father murdered. The last words he had said to him had been so vicious. The argument, one of many, about him going on the Crusades. He had never said goodbye to him then, well, he had, but it was one of those angry-over-the-shoulder-as he-is-leaving-after-just-arguing-with-him "goodbye father"s. But now he would never be able to say a proper goodbye, and he'd never be able to try to reestablish their relationship, and his children (if he had any) would never know their grandfather.

A noise behind him made him turn slightly. He frowned; of course, the one time he was able to slip away for a moment of peace, who had to interrupt but Will Scarlett.

Will didn't seem to be aware of him yet though and hopefully the vegetation would continue to conceal him. Scarlett was walking towards the river a few yards downstream. Robin held his breath; maybe Will wouldn't notice him, do whatever he was going to do, and then quickly leave. Because if he didn't want to be around his good friends Azeem and John, then he most certainly didn't want to be around his good enemy Will Scarlett.

Will didn't look to be leaving anytime soon, though. He walked right to the water's edge, and stood looking over at the other bank. Then he leaned down and picked up a few rocks, and—Robin shook his head in bemusement—began to skip them across the water.

Locksley could not believe that his morning of reflection and mourning was being interrupted by a man skipping rocks. He just wanted to be left alone, and Scarlett had to go and mess this up too. But then again, Will didn't know he was here. Perhaps if he made his presence known, Scarlett would leave.

"Do you always skip stones at this hour of the morning?"

Will jerked around in surprise, but he did not (as Robin had half hoped) fall into the river.

"Sheesh, Locksley. What are you doing here?"

"Apparently watching you skip rocks."

"Thrilling, isn't it?"

"You have no idea."

He watched as Will tried to come up with another witty comment but fail. But he didn't leave; he just turned back and resumed skipping stones. Oh well, Locksley should have known. Will might not want to have Robin watch him skip stones, but he also for sure wasn't going to appear to concede the riverbank to Locksley. Robin sighed; he supposed he could get up and leave, but he didn't want to appear to concede to Scarlett either, and besides, he was here first. So he sat there in the semi-darkness and watched Will flick the stones across the water.

"You're doing it wrong."

Will grit his teeth. "How would you know?"

"Because everyone's skipped rocks, Will. And you need more snap in your wrist."

Will took another stone, snapped his wrist, and made sure the stone just plopped once straight into the water. He then turned and gave Robin the smallest of _oops, how did that happen_ looks with the accompanying shoulder, hand, and head shrugs.

"Care to try?" Will challenged.

Robin shook his head. "I don't think I can compare to that level of skill you just demonstrated."

"Suit yourself."

"You never answered my question."

"And what question was that?"

"Do you always skip stones at this hour of the morning?"

"As a matter of fact I do."

"Figures."

"What do you mean by that?" Will demanded.

"I just meant that you're the type of person that would be out here this early."

"Why, because I'm just some peasant scum, and only peasant scum would be up this early, while the rich man's son gets to sleep until noon?"

"No," Robin replied calmly, "because you like to keep to yourself, and it figures that you would enjoy this time of solitude."

"Well, it's not really solitude if you're here, is it?"

"Very true," Robin once again replied calmly, and without a hint of apology in his tone. He was here first; it was up to Scarlett to leave.

Will threw a few more stones across the water, then turned back to Robin.

"So what are you doing out here?"

"Wishing for the solitude."

"Because it's not really solitude if I'm here, right?"

"Exactly," Locksley muttered absently, his mind already starting to wander back to their earlier gloomier thoughts.

"I never took you for a loner Locksley."

"What do you take me for? Don't answer that," Robin quickly backtracked from his absent-minded question. Will smiled in triumph and let him have his escape.

"Getting tired of leading our outlaw band?" Escape from the one question, not the interrogation, that is.

"Will…"

"Can't take living with all these peasants and outlaws. Too bad you have a price on your head too."

"Will…"

"Otherwise, you'd hightail it back to Nottingham first chance you got. But nope, you're stuck here."

"Will please. I came here to be alone."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know that," Will replied amicably. He promptly plopped himself down next to Robin and smirked.

Robin glared at him with such venom that Scarlett actually looked a little taken aback. Good. Wait, was he, was he actually, yes he was. Will was actually getting up and leaving. Man, how angry had he looked to make the man back down? But then Will was coming back, and Locksley suppressed the urge to throttle the younger man.

"You all right?" The words themselves sounded sincere and concerned, but Scarlett spoke them in the same tone of voice that a child who was being forced to apologize would say "so-rry."

"I'm fine." _Or I will be if you just get outta here!_

Will laughed incredulously. "Locksley, you're about as _fine_ as the Sheriff is sane."

Robin smiled at the joke, but it quickly faded.

"You look awful," Will continued in a softer voice and a much more sincere tone. He took a quick glance around, as if making sure no one was around to witness this. He sat back down. "What's wrong?"

Robin looked up and met Will's eyes; there was sincere and genuine concern in them. And suddenly Robin felt the overwhelming need to share what was preying on his mind with someone. Even Scarlett. Maybe even especially Scarlett.

"My mother died today."

He heard Will suck in a sharp breath. "Oh, Locksley…"

"Well, not today, obviously," he amended with a sad smile, "but twenty years ago today."

Will anxiously ran a hand through his hair. "Locksley, you should-you should talk to someone else about this. Let me go get Azeem or-or John, but you just –you should _really_ talk to someone else about this."

Robin shook his head at the suggestion of getting someone else. "No, it's okay. I don't need to…it's okay." The whim of speaking about it had passed; he was already regretting telling this much to Scarlett.

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. And then, Will asked it.

"What was she like?" It was forced out quickly and softly, in a voice that nowhere near resembled Scarlett's normal voice. To Robin it seemed laced with desperation—a seemingly great desperation to ask, and an even greater desperation to never know. Which didn't make any sense.

"She was beautiful. And kind. Always the perfect lady whenever company was around, but when it was just us, just her, me, and Father…" Robin smiled at the memories, "…We used to run all around the house, chasing each other like madmen. She loved to play games with me. And tell me stories." Robin's eyes were starting to moisten; it had been so long since he'd said any of this out loud.

"She loved to watch the sun rise. My father too. Sometimes they'd wake me up and drag me outside to watch the sun rise with them. I used to pretend to hate it. I loved it." The last part Robin barely gave voice to, and Scarlett had to strain to hear it.

"How did she die?" Will asked softly.

Robin closed his eyes against the memories. "She got sick," he answered simply, not wanted to relive anymore than that. "And she died. Twenty years ago." He shook his head in disbelief. "_Twenty_ years. You probably haven't even been alive for twenty years."

Will smiled sadly, but other than that didn't respond. Robin continued.

"I was twelve. After she died, I felt so lost. My father, he woke me up a couple of times and we'd watch the sun rise, trying to keep the tradition alive and…trying to find a way to put our lives back together. But then…"

He felt Will tense next to him as he trailed off, in response to what Robin didn't know.

"About a month after she'd died, a new woman entered my father's life. I felt so betrayed. I thought he'd betrayed my mother, me. I mean, he didn't have the decency to wait a year, or wait even half a year, before he…" Robin trailed off.

"It destroyed my faith in him. I thought he loved my mother, but…how could he when less than a month later he's with another woman?" A pause. "I hated him for it. And I never forgave him."

He had forgotten how perceptive Scarlett was, for he picked up on the particular way that Locksley had phrased that.

"Do you forgive him now?"

"Now?" It was a question he had been wrestling with for quite some time.

"Do I forgive him?" Did he?

"No." It was blunt, but it was true. "I don't hate him now. I can understand the reasons he did it now. I can feel ashamed of my reaction to it now, but…"

"But it didn't happen to you now," Will finished the thought for him. "It happened when you were twelve years old and had just lost your mother."

"Exactly. Maybe I should forgive him, but I can't. I can't forgive him for giving in to the basest of desires right when I needed him the most."

"I never thought of it that way," Will quietly remarked after a long, long silence, "but in your place I don't know if I could either."

"But he wasn't a bad man," Robin continued after a bit of reflection, as if he wanted to make sure that Will didn't come to have a bad opinion of his father because of him. "Far from it. He loved me, he even loved me enough to give her up after I found out. And he took care of me and tried to raise me right. I just never listened to him."

Robin shook himself out of his melancholy and tried to lighten the mood. "Well, that about finishes my woeful tale. Sorry I blathered on. I do hope your opinion of me hasn't sunk any lower. If that's possible," he finished with a grin.

"No. I mean no, my opinion of you can't go any lower," Will hastened to amend. Robin's grin widened. Scarlett had to smile back.

"Look, the sun's risen," Locksley realized belatedly.

"Yeah. Oh."

"Oh what?"

"Oh I understand now why you wanted to be alone to watch the sunrise."

"Oh it's all right." Robin purposely began with the fourth oh uttered in the past ten seconds. Will, ever the perceptive one, caught it and smiled. It was almost like their minds worked in the exact same way, the way each of them understood the other's humor. "I wanted to be alone on the tenth anniversary of my mother's death, but Peter interrupted me then too."

"Who's Peter?"

"My childhood friend. We went on the Crusades together."

"He dead?"

"He was killed just after we'd escaped the prison."

"Prison?"

"Yeah for five years we were in prison—man you really don't know much about me," Robin commented lightly; it seemed everyone in camp knew that he had been in prison for the past five years—it was practically a legend to the children.

"Oh, that's rich. Like you know _anything_ about me."

Well, maybe they didn't always understand the other's humor.

"That's true," Robin tried to placate the youth, and to his relief Will calmed. "Well, I've spilled my guts. Care to spill yours?"

"No. Not much to tell anyway."

"Come on, there has to be something. All right, how did you become an outlaw?" Robin queried when Will remained stubbornly silent.

"Same way you did."

"You killed some of the sheriff's men?"

"No, I stole some of Maid Marian's horses."

Robin tried to decipher if he was kidding or not. Okay, maybe they didn't understand each other's humor at _all_.

"I killed some of the sheriff's men," Will confirmed.

"Why did you kill the sheriff's men?"

"Because they were trying to kill me."

"Why were they trying to kill you?"

"Because I shot one of the sheriff's deer."

"You? You're not that good."

Will stared at him coolly for a moment, then conceded. "Okay, so Wulf killed the deer, but I knifed the men when they were trying to kill him. They didn't have as quick of reflexes as you." He had started the last statement off lightly, but they both grew uncomfortable with the mention of that day.

Robin looked down and was surprised to see that Will did not have his half gloves on this morning. He could clearly see the ugly scar on the back of Will's hand. Scarlett noticed his gaze and quickly moved his hand out of Robin's sight.

"Anyway, that was when I was officially named an outlaw. Before that, I was a pure, innocent, law-abiding citizen."

"Oh no doubt."

They shared a brief chuckle, both enjoying the return to the lighthearted jesting.

"Well, I should be getting back, before Azeem gets worried. Not that he'd actually do anything about it if he was."

Robin got up, turned to go, and then turned back. "Thank you Will. It was nice to get all that off my chest, and it was nice to learn more about you." It was very formal but also very true. Locksley walked off.

"Robin."

Locksley stopped and turned back at Will's call. Will was half-turned to look at him, but was now looking mighty unsure about what he was going to say.

"I…I never…I mean I never…I never thought," Will was trying but he just kept tripping over the words, "I mean I never _actually_ thought…that your father was a devil worshipper."

"Then why did you say he was?" Locksley demanded.

Will shrugged, uncomfortable. "Because I wanted to make you angry," he answered truthfully, before averting his gaze.

Robin belatedly realized that Will had just apologized to him. And now it probably seemed to Will that he was refusing to accept it, when that wasn't the case at all; he had just been too blindsided to realize what that stuttering of Will's had been.

"He wasn't a devil worshipper," Robin stated calmly.

Will looked back up at him and nodded. "I know."

Robin smiled at him. "Good."

As Locksley made his way back to camp, it hit him. That had been the first time Will had ever called him Robin.

* * *

****

This might be continued with a few more chapters, kind of a mini-story. Still not completely sure yet, but there's a good chance this one will be continued; maybe this scene from Will's POV, or just some follow up. Anyway, I hope y'all like it (and I hope that this one gives an adequate line break, I apologize for the lack of one in In the End). And I hope the title is satisfactory; it seemed okay when I first wrote it, but now all I can think of is Chris Farley's "you'll be living in a van down by the river!" Of course, none of you probably thought of that until I put it into your heads just now, but oh well. Anyway, hope y'all liked it, please review, and have a great day!

--Jedi


	2. Chapter 2

Robin walked back to find the camp wide-awake and busting with activity. As he walked through the camp, he noted with a secret smile that almost every person glanced up when he passed and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. One of the downsides to being leader was that everyone tended to fret whenever he was absent for a while. Their concern was touching but also a little tiring. But luckily, today they did not seem too stressed out, although he didn't think even their tiresome trepidation could ruin the good mood he was in this morning, thanks to the unexpected and unexpectedly welcomed conversation with Scarlett.

He joined Azeem and John, who were busy repairing one of the ground shelters. It had been one of the first ones made, before even Azeem and Robin had come, and it sorely needed attention. Right now, they were reframing the roof, securing the wooden beams that would support the thatching.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Robin greeted as he picked up a beam and passed it on up to John who was on the roof.

"What are you so bloody chipper about?" It seemed that, unlike Robin and Will, John was not, in fact, a morning person.

"Well," Robin drew it out for a second, making sure he had Azem's attention before continuing. "I just had quite an interesting conversation with Will. I think he might be coming around." He broke out into a grin as Azeem smiled.

"I doubt that," John muttered.

"What makes you think so?" Azeem asked Robin, ignoring John's comment.

Locksley stopped himself from saying, 'cause he called me Robin.' He had a feeling that wouldn't have the same impact on them as it had on him. "We were just talking, and well, I just think we might have reached an understanding."

"Scarlett doesn't know the meaning of the word," John mumbled under his breath, but Locksley heard him.

"What do you mean by that?" Robin asked, curious.

"I mean Will Scarlett could never reach an understanding with anyone. Hand me another," John gestured to another of the wooden beams on the ground as Azeem finished securing the other with the rope.

Robin obliged him and then returned to topic of Scarlett; John's attitude was slightly baffling, not to mention intriguing. "Why? Why can't Will reach an understanding with anyone?"

John stopped his work for a second and took a breath. Robin could almost see him put away his own antipathy for Will, realizing his words held weight with the outlaw leader, and trying to answer honestly but fairly. It was a trait Robin appreciated in his second-in-command and one he envied.

John answered him. "Will Scarlett doesn't understand people. He rubs everyone the wrong way. He doesn't understand how to make friends, he doesn't understand how to keep friends. He likes to be alone and he likes to keep secrets. He doesn't like anyone, so no one likes him, so how could he ever reach an understanding with anyone?"

Locksley took a moment to digest that speech. Evidently the outlaw had thought about his argument before. But, "That's a pretty one-sided argument there John."

"Yeah well, up until today, you believed it too," the burly outlaw replied frostily.

That gave Robin pause. He supposed it was an accurate statement. No, he knew it was true. Well at least it had been, but it wasn't now.

"That's true John. But Will and I talked to each other this morning, and, and we learned things about each other." He spoke earnestly, wanting to convince John about the magnitude of the morning's events. "I told him some things about me, and he told me things about himself. He—"

"—Don't believe him. Lad's a born liar."

Robin shook his head in exasperation as he handed Azeem and John the first layer of thatching. "What have you got against him John?"

It was Little's turn to shake his head. "He just…He just always makes me feel like he's lying to me. Lying to me or hiding something from me, or just not bothering to tell the truth. So many times he lies about things that don't really matter. I can't trust a man like that."

Robin frowned. Coming from John, that was a pretty serious condemnation. He helped them finish thatching the roof in silence. He kept trying to replay his conversation with Will this morning, but every time he tried, it seemed to get further and further away from reality. Had it just been a few hours ago that he had spilled his guts to Will? And he had told John that Will had revealed things about himself, but had he really? The only thing he had really told was how he became an outlaw…and even then he had tried to lie.

"John. How did Will become an outlaw?"

Little looked puzzled at this. "Same way we all did. Poaching, not paying taxes, you know, breaking the law," he added pointedly.

Locksley rolled his eyes at John's attempt at humor. "I mean officially, how did he become an outlaw?"

"Oh. You could've said so the first time. Well, let's see, I guess it was when he killed some of the Sheriff's men. Wulf was poaching, and some of the soldiers caught him. Scarlett was nearby and yes, he saved my son's life. That was the only reason I let him stick around…when I was in charge," he clarified. "He saved my son's life. But he killed the Sheriff's men the same way he tried to kill you Robin, which you seem to have forgotten. If I were you, I wouldn't trust him any farther than I could throw him." With that John walked away, the repairs on the roof complete.

Locksley frowned. No, he hadn't forgotten the fact that Will had tried to kill him, it…had just seemed to lose its significance as time had passed. Besides, he had done things he was not proud of on that day too. Which left him…where exactly?

"Well Azeem, you've been very quiet about all this."

"I though you asked for neither my company nor counsel."

Robin exhaled in frustration at all the comedians around him.

"Well I'm asking for it now. What do you think about Will?"

"So you changed your mind then; you do want my counsel."

"Is there a point to this Azeem?"

"Yes."

Robin seriously considered punching the painted man right then and there. "And that point is?"

"People can change Christian. You did. And apparently today you thought Will had, too." With that Azeem also walked away. "Until you asked John's opinion," he added over his shoulder.

"John's known Scarlett longer than I."

"So?" was the last thing Azeem countered with before Robin was left alone.

"So?" Robin repeated mockingly. Thanks so much Azeem. "'People can change, Christian,'" he mimicked sarcastically. Wow, some deep advice there. Of course he knew people could change. The question was had Will actually changed? Because when he thought about it, the events of this morning were not that earth-shattering. All that had happened was he and Will exchanged a few barbs, like they always did, and then Robin told about his mother, and Will had told how he became an outlaw.

And had apologized about his remarks about Locksley's father. That was an important admission on Will's part, Robin was sure of it. But was that admission alone enough to say that the man who had once tried to kill him had reached an understanding with him? Because how could Robin say that after all these long, long months of antagonism and hatred, Will had just upped and changed in the space of one morning?

Robin sighed. He couldn't believe how quickly things had changed today. First he had been depressed over the death of his mother, then he had been thrilled after Will had called him Robin, and now he was sick and tired of trying to analyze Scarlett. Really, why did Scarlett have to be so complicated? Why couldn't he just stop being such a mystery?

Locksley struck the trunk of a tree in frustration. He'd never figure Scarlett out, he decided. Defeated, he headed across camp to get some food; he'd been up before dawn and his stomach was rumbling.

As he walked, he saw Will emerge from the forest. Had he really been by the river for all this time? The sun was high in the sky by now; had Will been so shaken up by their conversation that he had stayed there all this time, or was he just plain lazy?

He and Will were about to cross paths, and Robin was not looking forward to it. He didn't know how to react to him anymore; he certainly didn't want to act hostile towards him based on John's judgment alone, but he also didn't want to appear overly friendly in case Will didn't consider this morning's events to be anything unusual.

So as they began to get within hailing distance, Robin kept looking anywhere but at Will. He didn't know what to do and so he finally settled on just nodding when they passed. It was the kind of nod he would give a stranger or a slight slight acquaintance: respectful but extremely distant. It probably came off as standoffish but Robin couldn't trust himself to anything more; he didn't want to talk to Will and he didn't even want to look at him. So just nodded, looking straight ahead as he passed Scarlett. But his eyes betrayed him; just a step after the two had passed each other, his eyes quickly darted to Will's face to gauge his reaction. And as he glanced into Will's eyes, Robin knew in that instant that he had made a horrible mistake.

Will's eyes were full of confusion, a hesitant half-smile still lingering on his face. His body was even half-turned to Locksley, making it all too clear to Robin that Will had been about to give him a friendly greeting. The smile slowly faded from his face, and his confusion was replaced with embarrassment and humiliation, before Will masked it with a look of cool indifference. He slowly turned his back on Robin and regally strode away.

Robin wished desperately to call out to him, but his voice would not cooperate. He had just blown it. Azeem was right; why had he let John's opinion influence him so? John hadn't been there this morning. Robin knew he had been right; Will had changed. As he watched Will walk away, still not finding the courage to call him back, the significance of this morning's events finally hit him.

It wasn't that Robin had just spilled his guts about his mother, it was that Will had _listened_ to him spill his guts. Had actually listened and had actually comforted. And it wasn't that Will had barely told the truth about his becoming an outlaw, it was that he had actually shared _anything_ with Robin. And it wasn't that Will hadn't apologized for almost killing him, it was that he had apologized for something much more personal. It was the fact that Will had spent the rest of the morning by the river, in all probability because he too was mixed up about their changing relationship. It was the fact that Will had tried to greet him with a smile. It was the fact that he had called him Robin.

Will had changed—and Robin knew he had severely hurt the gains he had made this morning. He was a fool. He was an idiotic fool. But he could make this right. He had to. Locksley sprinted over to the "dining hall" and quickly grabbed two plates of stew. He then jogged as fast as he could without spilling and tried to catch up to the other outlaw.

"Will," he called, just as Scarlett was about to climb a ladder up to the second level. Will stopped and turned to him, wary. His face betrayed nothing of his previous confusion or embarrassment.

"Here." _Real eloquent there, Locksley_. Robin handed him one of the plates. Will slowly took it, but he didn't say anything.

"You must be hungry," Robin said by way of explanation. Will reluctantly nodded at this, but he still said nothing. Not one insult about Locksley's stating the obvious, not an angry retort that he was not hungry at all. He just met Robin's gaze squarely, and there was neither hatred nor friendliness in his eyes. Just mistrust.

"Well then. There you go," Robin once again stated the obvious before turning and leaving.

Well it was official. He had just destroyed all that he had gained this morning. He didn't know which was worse; Will's previous hatred or this agonizing mistrust. No, that wasn't true, he'd rather deal with this mistrust than with the hatred. He might have made Will once again wary of him, but at least the young man didn't hate him anymore. He would just have to work on regaining Will's trust. And then he would have to work even harder to regain Will's fleeting friendship.

But he had time. He wasn't going to worry too much about it, he decided as he began to devour his stew. It would take a lot of work, but he was certain that he'd regain Will's trust and friendship. He had had them both this morning, and he was determined to get them back. He would just have to work on it. Besides, he had lots of time.

The next day the Celts invaded the camp.

* * *

Okay, finally got this chapter up. But it's only been…oh, over a month. I am so sorry. But hopefully the next chapter will be up quicker. I promise to start working on the next chapter tomorrow, but it will still probably be a week or two before I finish it. Anyway, I hope this chapter was okay, please review (if you haven't abandoned the story since it took so long for me to update) and have a great day!

--Jedi


	3. Chapter 3

Robin wearily helped bury his dead. His dead, for it was his men; innocent villagers that he had roped into fighting his private battle against Nottingham. Marian had been wrong; he wasn't a "once arrogant young nobleman," he was still as arrogant as ever. Only now he was arrogant enough to think he was helping the common folk, when instead he had just been duping innocent people to help him in his private vendetta against Nottingham.

How could this have happened? The outlaw village was in ruins. Half of his men were dead; the rest were either captured or had fled as the fire swept through the forest. Only John, Azeem, Bull, and the Friar were left. Wulf had probably been taken, Will he had seen get captured. And Marian was taken too. Duncan had ridden all through the night to find help for Marian—and had unwittingly led the Sheriff straight to the camp.

Azeem was walking towards him now, carrying the still form of…Duncan. Robin watched with a heavy heart as the Moor laid the old man gently on the ground. He was dead. Robin's last link to the past. His mother was dead, his father was dead, Peter, and now Duncan. No, he still had Marian; he would find a way to rescue her.

He voiced his self-recrimination to his friend. "My pride brought us to this."

Azeem disagreed. "No Sahib," he negated firmly. Robin looked up in surprise at this. After all, it had been the Moor who had warned him about using the villagers for his "own purposes."

Azeem continued on sincerely. "It was you who gave pride to these people."

But Robin had failed them. He had failed them all. He recalled Will's bitter remark that the "poor old fool led them straight to us." And Duncan had. And Robin had sent him away.

"I was a fool. I was a fool to let him leave." Scarlett had called poor old Duncan the fool, but he had been wrong; Robin was the fool. He just sent Duncan on his merry way with Marian, disregarding the consequences. Everything had been falling neatly into place. Duncan had a warm place to stay, Marian was going to warn the king, the raids were working brilliantly. His plans, his schemes had been going off flawlessly. "I believed I had planned it all so perfectly," he confided, disgusted with himself.

The painted Moor sighed, realizing very little could comfort the leader of the decimated band just now. But still, he had to try. "I once heard a wise man say: there are no perfect men in this world, only perfect intentions."

Robin understood the saying intellectually, and although the pain and despair were still too vivid for him to take much comfort in the words, he did appreciate his friend's efforts.

"You were an honor to your countrymen today Azeem. You fought better than twenty English knights."

Azeem was surprised at the ironic compliment, and he laughed quietly at his friend's humor. Then he quickly sobered and helped Christian bury his friend. And his friend too.

After the task had been completed, Azeem gave Locksley some privacy. Robin stood there, gazing sorrowfully at the resting place of his old servant and friend. It was horrible that such a kind-hearted man's last actions should unwittingly cause such devastation. He knelt back down beside the grave and quietly repeated Azeem's words: "There are no perfect men in this world, only perfect intentions." _A wise man told me tha_t. "Goodbye old friend."

Robin slowly staggered to his feet; he had aged a hundred years in two days. He squatted back down next to their supply of water and took a drink. Then he frowned; something had reflected off the water. He turned, and watched in astonishment as Will emerged from the forest.

"Will!" Robin almost wanted to cry in relief; one more of his men was still alive. But, "I thought you were taken." He thought he had seen Will surrounded by soldiers with no way out, but then again, things _had_ been pretty hectic.

"I was," was all Will replied.

_And? Could you expand a little on that Scarlett?_ Robin thought as Will just stood there. Come to think of it, there was something a little off in Will's stance, but Robin couldn't figure out what.

"How did you escape?" he finally asked when it was obvious Will was not going to be any more forthcoming. And he still wasn't. He only nodded as if to say, "yeah that is a good question. Wish I had a good answer." A feeling of dread began to pierce through Locksley. It was indeed a good question. How was Will Scarlett the only one to escape? Robin waited for an answer, but before Will deigned to speak, an enraged scream came from the side.

Locksley was stunned as he watched John charge toward Will. The man grabbed the youth and dragged, pushed, pulled, shoved him over to the makeshift camp that the survivors had made out of the ruins. All the while he was throwing the odd punch at Will and screaming…screaming that Scarlett was a traitor.

Robin ran, trying to catch up to his crazed friend and the youth he was beating up. He ran past Azeem, who still seemed to be dumbfounded that Will was actually here and that John was attacking him. Tuck was the only one who tried to get John away from Will, but the incensed man just threw him aside and then tackled Will to the ground as he attempted to escape.

Locksley was right next to them now, but he made no move to stop John. He remained still as John's accusations continued. John's rantings were hysterical, but they also made a horrible, twisted kind of sense. He watched as Will struggled to get away from John; he expected Scarlett to yell a confirmation or denial of John's accusations, maybe just an "are you crazy!?." But evidently Will was not up to multitasking at the moment; he was too focused on escaping John. Then as Will fell to the ground, Robin saw fear enter his eyes. Quickly he glanced over and saw Bull with a rope in his hands. Bull, ever loyal to John, had reacted instantly to John's order to get a rope. But John couldn't possibly…they couldn't possibly mean to string him up? An echo of the fear that appeared in Will's eyes settled in the pit of Robin's stomach.

He wasn't going to let them just hang Will. He was about to order them to stop when a pain filled cry stopped everyone. Robin turned back to Will to see him with his eyes clenched shut, harsh breaths escaping from a mouth tensed with pain from the wounds John had violently exposed.

Whip marks traversed Will's chest and stomach, angry red gashes that crossed his entire torso, one all the way up to his shoulder. For a dizzying moment, Robin was back in the dungeons, hearing the screams, smelling the blood, witnessing the torture. And then through the nauseating memories, he heard his own voice light and teasing: _"Yeah for five years we were in prison—man you really don't know much about me."_ And Will's bitter retort, _"Oh, that's rich, like you know anything about me." _

Will opened his pain filled eyes and Locksley was forced back to the present. Scarlett stared warily up at John, but Little was not continuing to attack Will; instead he muttered a curse in dismay. Robin felt it was time to step in.

"Let him speak," he ordered, and John obediently stepped away.

Will quickly covered his wounds and Locksley noted idly that Will was a terrible politician; the one thing that had managed to stop everyone in their tracks he was now covering up. A real strategist would have kept the wounds displayed as he spoke. But Will angrily covered them with the tattered remains of his shirt, hiding the wounds away. John's musings ran through Locksley's mind; "he's hiding something."

"I bring a message from Nottingham," Will bit out in between harsh intakes of breath. It sounded painful to Locksley, but Will relentlessly pushed on, glaring at each of them in turn. "Our men are to be hung in the square at high noon tomorrow."

"What about my boy?" Fanny asked desperately.

Scarlett looked down to the ground. "The boy too," he answered sadly. "Ten men in all."

Wulf. Wulf was going to hang. But he was just a boy. Ten men were going to hang, because of him. But why only ten men, when many more had been taken prisoner? And why was Will the one sent to deliver the message?

"The uh, the hangings are to be part of the celebration for the sheriff's marriage."

That regained Locksley's interest. But it was Bull who asked the question, for which Locksley was grateful, because he did not think he could give voice to his fears.

"Marriage? To who?"

Will's eyes turned straight to him. Robin knew the answer before Will voiced it, but it still cut him to the core. "The Lady Marian."

He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it. Not Marian. Not her. Not when he had started falling in love with her. Not Marian. She was the last link he had; to Peter, to his childhood, to his family. And now she was being forced to marry the evil Sheriff who would do exactly as John and the Friar were voicing; he would be after the throne.

Wulf and Marian would both be gone tomorrow. No, wrong attitude, Robin chastised himself. He would think of some way to get them out. Quickly he refocused on the situation in front of him, and as he did so, his eyes narrowed as he contemplated the unusual situation in front of him.

How was it that Will was the one sent to deliver the message? It couldn't be mere coincidence that the man who bore the most ill will toward Locksley was the one that was set free. But what could the Sheriff gain from Will giving him the message? Once Robin heard the news he would of course feel sad and guilty, but the Sheriff didn't need to set a prisoner free for that—Locksley would have heard about his men's deaths eventually. And besides telling him now only gave him time to prepare a last-ditch rescue mission. Why send an outlaw out here to scour the woods and deliver a message to Locksley when…when even some of his own men thought he might be dead. Which meant some thought he was still alive. Which meant…

It was all so perfect. Will, disheveled and spectacularly beaten, reluctantly delivering the news of the fates of their men and Locksley's true love. He would be allowed, no, welcomed back into the fold, the other outlaws thankful for his release, grateful for his warning, sobered at his awful condition. Which gave him the perfect opportunity to…

"You were to use this news to get close to me and then kill me right Will?" he demanded, his voice dead and grimly certain as he accused the man whom he had days ago tried to befriend of once again trying to kill him.

And Will laughed. He actually laughed at Robin's accusation. But was it because he couldn't believe Robin thought that of him, or because he couldn't believe it took Locksley that long to figure it out? But either way, Will showed no surprise at Robin's accusations. It stung Locksley badly and he could only ask icily, "What are your intentions?"

And then the laughter was gone as Will struggled to his feet. In its place was rage. "Well that depends on you Locksley," he spat out. "I've never trusted you that's no secret. But what I want to know is are you going to finish what you started." He seemed to switch his argument to the others watching them. "I want to know if he's going to turn and run like the spoiled little rich boy I always took him for."

It was odd truly, that Robin felt more anger at these words now than at the thought that Will was here simply to kill him. But for him, the idea that Will had actually mulled over his options and still kept alive the possibility of killing Locksley hurt him so much more. He just couldn't believe that of Will. He knew he had messed up the other day, but Will thought he deserved to be killed? And that he still would turn tail and run? How dare he say that? He had stood out alone as the Celts first rode into the village, fought tooth and nail after that, had fought against the Sheriff all these long months, and still Will thought it feasible that he would run? After all they had gone through, Will still thought of him as a spoiled little rich boy? Locksley harshly berated himself for actually mourning Will's capture earlier, when it seemed Scarlett still wanted to kill him.

"Did I wrong you in another life Will Scarlett?" He saw something flicker in Will's eyes and he pressed on, determined to get some answers. "What does this intolerable hatred for me come from?"

He saw the surprise enter Will's eyes; he had expected Robin to defend himself from Will's accusations, not turn the tables and go on the offensive, forcing Will to search for the answers instead. And Robin watched as the unexpectedness of his attack was able to slip through Will's defenses.

But Will was not about to let it show and he turned away slightly. But Robin leaned in, continuing to invade Will's personal space, letting the youth know Locksley was not going to let up until he got an answer. Finally, Will turned back to him. He met Robin's eyes; the anger was still there but other emotions were evident too. He answered Locksley's accusations. "From knowing that…our father loved you more than me."

What? "Our father?" he repeated dumbly. Surely he had misheard or Will had misspoken. 'Our father loved you more than me.' Unease built within him as those words, impossible though they were, led Robin to places he did not want to go. It was impossible. Besides, he had just heard wrong. 'Our father.' It couldn't be. It was impossible. It wasn't true.

"_Lad's a born liar."_ John's voice rang through his mind again. Ah, yes, of course. Will was just making things up. And although he would've thought he would be palpably furious at Scarlett for making this up (and he was a little angry), the dominant emotion he felt was relief. Immense relief that he had figured out what was going on and that it wasn't true. Just one more of Will's avoidance techniques: when asked a question you don't want to answer—lie. He was doing a good job of it too. His pained voice and his tense body language…and his eyes…

"We are brothers, Robin of Locksley," Will continued, his voice grim.

This was…a really good performance. Confused, he glanced over at John, as if seeking confirmation that Will was indeed just trying to fool him. And John just smirked condescendingly and shook his head at Robin. The boy was lying, John was telling him, but Will sounded so…sincere.

Will had observed the exchange of glances, and Robin saw the anger in Will's eyes turn to cold-hearted fury.

"I am the son of the woman who replaced your dead mother for a time!"

Betrayal ripped through Locksley and he grabbed Will and shook him in his rage. How could he? After Robin had trusted him with his deepest secrets, with his most vulnerable thoughts and feelings, for Will to twist them and use them like this? To take his mother, his father, his _past_ and to pervert it, _them_, into some twisted tale just so Will could wiggle his way out of being caught out as a traitor? He had never thought Will could be so cruel. He had trusted Will.

But Scarlett just couldn't stop, even as Robin shook him in anger, he just had to keep twisting the knife further in Robin's back. And hadn't he tried to do that literally just a few short months ago?

"It was your anger that drove them apart!"

"That's a lie!" Robin shouted. He didn't want to hear this. He. Didn't. Want. To. Hear. This.

"It's not a lie!" Anguished frustration coated the insistent yell and Robin froze. "You ruined my life!" Will practically screamed before he clenched his mouth shut, trying to check all his emotions before he became hysterical.

Robin remained rooted to the ground, his eyes filled with confusion, denial, and the dawning of a horrible understanding. But even then, the litany continued in his head. It couldn't be. It just…it couldn't be. It was impossible. It…couldn't…

Will raised his head but would not meet Robin's eyes.

"I have more reason to hate you than anyone," he grit out forcefully, but devoid of the all-consuming rage of the previous statement. He finally raised his eyes to Robin's as he barely gave voice to the next part; "but I found myself daring to believe in you."

Robin glanced away, trying to distance himself from the other's words. But he knew what Will was talking about. That day, it seemed like a lifetime ago, that morning by the river where they had both dared to believe in the other. That seeming moment in time where a fragile, fragile trust had been formed. And then shattered and shattered by events, by people, by themselves. The same fragile trust that he had sworn to regain…was it just the other day? But…his brother?

Robin glanced at Will then flicked his eyes away and then just as quickly glanced back. He felt the urge to examine Will for characteristics that would mark him as his brother or as Locksley's son, but he also dreaded to have it confirmed. He again glanced away, staring over Scarlett's head.

They couldn't be brothers. Will was too short. And he looked nothing like their father—_his_ father, Robin instantly berated himself. Although the…no, Robin wrenched his gaze from the top of his head and was once again met with Will's softly determined eyes and Robin felt forced to hold his gaze as the youth continued.

"What I want to know brother," Oh, there was so much truth in his eyes. Pure truth in the eyes of the born liar, and Robin couldn't bear it. He tore his eyes away again as Will's eyes and voice told the truth. The irrevocable, stifling truth.

"Is will you stay with us and finish what you started?"

Robin turned back to Will's pleading eyes, stunned at the offer Will was making. An offer to make peace, to earn Will's trust. A trust that Locksley had been adamant to regain just days ago. But a trust that came at a cost: truth. Acknowledgment, acceptance of it. Of the truth. Robin had destroyed their fragile trust, but Will was offering one last chance for him to regain it. Locksley knew with every fiber of his being that this was his last chance. Will was offering his trust, his friendship, here and now for the final time. And Robin _had_ wanted to regain their fleeting truce, but…a brother?

He didn't want a brother. Because a brother implied too much. Everything with a brother was stronger, deeper, closer. And he didn't want that with Will. Not with Will Scarlett. He had only wanted to be friends with Scarlett. He didn't want to be brothers with…he just didn't want a brother!

Truth. The truth was crowding him, choking him. Idly he wondered if this was how Will had felt when he had unloaded all his family secrets to the boy that morning by the river. That morning…that morning when he had felt a bond with Will as strong as the one with his lifelong friend Peter. That morning when he had gone deeper into his past, into his deepest sorrows than he had ever gone with anyone. That morning when he had felt closer to Will than to any of his trusted allies in camp.

Truth. And suddenly the truth in Will's eyes was not that frightening, not that daunting. The truth was…not so bad.

"I have a brother?" Robin murmured in puzzled wonder as he finally allowed the truth to sink in. To acknowledge, to accept. And he was amazed to discover that…it was okay. It was okay. It was almost…nice.

But Will had misunderstood his words. Where Robin had said it in the beginnings of acceptance, Will had heard the beginnings of rejection. And Robin watched as Will's eyes widened in a wild desperation, pleading, begging Robin to believe him, to accept him. The desperate eyes tugged at Robin's heart and he rushed to dispel Will's rising fear.

"I have a brother!" he repeated in a firm, joy-filled voice so that there would be no mistake that he was at peace with the revelation. On an impulse he wrapped his arms lightly around Will and held him close for just a second, then pulled away from the embrace, but something made him maintain partial contact.

He held his brother's face in his hands and finally answered Will's question. "I will make my stand with you." _With Will Scarlett, my brother. My brother._ It was nice. It was very nice. "Side by side." Will smiled at that, at the promise in that. "To the end."

His brother. Now and forever.

It was nice.

.

* * *

Well, I've finally updated and it's finally over. I just have to say that I did start working on this chapter immediately after I posted the previous chapter, like I promised. It just took several months instead of several weeks for it to finally coalesce into a final version. It's a lot harder to write this scene from Robin's point of view than I thought. Oh well, so sorry about the long stretch between updates, but it's finally done! Yea! Please review if you're not too mad at the wait, and have a great day!


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